


You Don't Get Me High Anymore [slow updates]

by TealrootsG



Category: My Chemical Romance, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, F/M, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 06:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19864939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TealrootsG/pseuds/TealrootsG
Summary: They’ve ditched college, they’ve ditched their meaningless jobs, and now they’re touring together in a van. It wasn't the best idea Gerard had had, but it gave them a purpose and they were all exceptionally excited about it.Though it obviously wasn't the rockstar life they would have preferred - especially for Gerard, who’s self medicated solutions were sending him in a downward spiral.Frank, Mikey, Ray and Matt put all their hopes in to this band too, and it wasn’t going very well for them either. The problems Gerard seemed to be surrounded by were making it worse, too.[Chalk Outline rewrite]





	1. The Good Life

“I think this calls for celebration!” Matt stood, swaying on his feet, but was soon yanked back down by Ray, who didn’t like the attention Matt’s outburst brought them.

Currently, they were gathered in a small late-night café, going over the lyrics and music sheets for the show they were attending later that night. Matt had just gotten a little over excited at the fact they actually had a venue to go to. It’d been a while since they’d scored a concert and they were very tight on money. Each of them had poured all of their savings in to this band; it had to work.

“Calm your ass down.” Frank snapped, adding sugar to his bland coffee. He hadn’t had a drink all day, so he was a little agitated –they all were.

Life on the road wasn’t treating them as fairly as they’d dreamed. Proper coffee from a proper café was something they’d been deprived of while traveling around the states in a van trying to scavenge for work to get paid. By now, they were pretty well known, having sold over half a million copies of their second album. Though the luxury that supposedly came with fame was a total lie they’d been fed by the media. But they weren’t in it for the fame; they wanted to inspire their generation to make a difference in the dying world. Needing money to do that was just part of the job.

The waiter came around to clear their dirty cups away, but before he left Mikey spoke up, ordering another coffee. Gerard was about to get in on that, but realised he didn’t have any money left, so he waved a hand dismissively and slumped in his seat with a disappointed expression washing over his face.

“Hey,” Frank nudged his arm, “I could have bought you one.”

“It’s okay.” He muttered, scratching his fingers through his greasy black hair.

Yet another thing they’d not been able to do, was get a decent shower. They were limited to public bathrooms and showers in hotels when they scraped up enough money to afford it. Even then, one or two of them would have to sleep on the floor –they’d take it in turns. Due to their stolen access to basic necessities, Gerard had had to dye his hair in the bathroom of a Starbucks. Not that he minded, but the manager certainly had. Gerard was officially banned from that Starbucks, much to his sorrow because they’d served the best coffee.

Mikey slapped a music sheet in front of Ray, grabbing his attention. “Here.” He pointed with his finger. “Something’s off.”

“You sure?”

Ignoring mannerisms, Frank stretched over the table, snatching it from his hands. “Let me see.”

By now, Mikey was so used to it, he didn’t even bother whining or trying to improve Frank’s manners. Instead, he just glared. “Rude.”

“I know.” He didn’t give a damn. “I added this.” He explained. “It needed the extra boost.”

Rolling his eyes, Ray sighed, “Alright. I’ll try to remember it for tonight.”

“Anything else you wanna add? A guitar solo or two?” Mikey said sarcastically, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest.

“Actually-”

“No, Frank.” Gerard cut in, sending him a stern glance. “None of us can keep changing the songs when we feel like it, it runs us off pattern.”

Shrugging, Frank replied, “That was the last one, I promise.”

-

For the hundredth time, Mikey had to push Matt off leaning on his shoulder while he slept, removing his elbow from his ribs. "I wish we had more room." He complained and he wasn't the only one.

"I wish we had enough money to buy a bigger van." Frank added, rubbing his eyes as he stared at the inky black sky. “Or a motorhome.”

They were on their way to the venue, dodging cars and pedestrians as they took shortcuts through alley ways to get there faster. They may or may not have been late. If they lost this gig, it'd be fucking awful because they seriously needed the cash.

"Hey, sleeping beauty." Frank tapped Gerard on the nose, trying to stop him from falling asleep. He didn't want drool on his leather jacket. Inhaling deeply, Gerard raised his head from Frank's shoulder, only mumbling incoherently before his eyes fluttered shut again and he returned to being half asleep. At least he wasn't digging him in the ribs; unlike Matt was still doing to poor Mikey.

"Let him be, as long as he's up for the show. We can't play without the singer." Mikey said, absentmindedly strumming the strings on his bass. "How's it going up there?" He called out to Ray, who was driving the metal cage.

"Peachy." Ray deadpanned, swerving in to the car park and cutting the engine. "Unload the stuff, I'll sort shit out." He hopped out the car, slamming the door before he strode in to the building.

Frank woke Gerard up from his sleep, having to nearly carry him out of the van. Mikey did the same with Matt, although it was a lot less carefully as Mikey was fed up. From the entrance, Ray waved them in and the others gathered their equipment, heading in for one hell of a concert.

-

“You doing okay?” Frank was usually the one asking this particular question, but this time it was Ray asking him, seeing as Frank looked like he’d been dragged through a bush backwards. His hair was sticking up every which way and his eyelids drooped. It was like Gerard’s drowsiness had been passed to him.

“I’m just tired.” He dug the heel of his palm in to his eye, creating coloured stars in his vision. It took all he had not to fall asleep backstage.

The rest of the band were setting up. The lights were being adjusted, the amps tested, the microphone switched on and, most importantly, the band was psyching itself up.

“We’re on.” Ray clapped Frank on the shoulder and they both headed up, already finding Mikey, Gerard and Matt on stage.

Frank was speechless, this was a bigger venue than they were used to. He was glad he and Gerard had shared a smoke earlier.

Thankfully, the odds had favoured them and the lights weren't too bright, however, the crowd cheered so loudly that Frank was sure his ears were going to bleed sooner or later.

They all took their places on stage, readying themselves for the first song. Leading up to it, the guitarists strummed their instruments quietly, a backing track for Gerard as he spoke to the audience.

“Alright, you motherfuckers!” He yelled in to the mic, wrapping the wire around his wrist, dragging it behind him as he moved around. “Not that this is a problem. . . but usually. . .” He began pacing the stage, “the girls are louder than the boys.”

This received many cheers from the crowd as he briefly directed the microphone at them.

“But that’s not the case tonight! Because the boys are going to be just as loud as the girls. Am I right, gentlemen?” He smirked, glancing back at a half asleep Frank, who was beginning to feel the heat of being on stage. They were in limited space with thousands of people, what did he expect?

Adjusting the collar of his shirt, Frank let his head roll back and he stared up at the ceiling, lips parted. The temperature seemed to be affecting Mikey, Ray and Matt, too, because they had already discarded their jackets, piling them in a corner on stage.

“Now, I know you know this song. . . I want you all to sing along, the curse is on you if you don't.” Gerard’s voice had become so low and raspy, it even sent chills up Frank’s spine. His leather jacket slid off his shoulders, bunching at his elbows as he’d rolled his sleeves up.

They launched in to the intro of You Know What They do to Guys Like Us in Prison. For the most part, Gerard and Frank yelled the lyrics, until Gerard started to moan in to the mic, running his fingers through his hair, which was damp with sweat. Mikey didn't seem to approve of Gerard’s actions and screwed his eyes shut, wishing away the fact that Gerard was his brother and he was witnessing first hand what he probably sounded like [doing that]. It was awful. Matt and Ray had the same kind of disturbed expression on their faces too. To be honest, though, Frank didn't seem to mind and joined in -once.

-

“Frankie,” Gerard poked his shoulder as Frank almost fell asleep standing up. “They’ve nearly booked our room; don't worry.”

Mikey and Ray were currently trying to get a decent room in the motel they’d discovered that wasn't too far from the venue.

“I’m awake, I’m awake.” Frank mumbled, opening his eyes for several seconds before his head dropped back on to Gerard’s shoulder and he was clearly the opposite of awake. Rolling his eyes, Gerard brushed Frank’s hair behind his ear to stop it tickling his neck. The two were slouched against a wheel of the van, sat on the hard gravel of a car park, while Matt was sprawled across the back seats of the van. Their instruments were taking up the rest of the space.

Just as Gerard was about to drift off too, which really wasn't a good idea, considering the neighbourhood they were in, Mikey and Ray showed up. Mikey kicked his brother’s feet, jolting him awake.

“What was that for?” Gerard whined, squinting up at him.

“Come on, dude, get your stuff, we got a room.”

“A room?”

“Yeah?”

“ _A_ room?”

“Oh, well, it was either two rooms and no breakfast, or one room and breakfast. So I chose food over comfort.” Mikey explained, setting a hand on the van door, meaning he needed to open it.

At the news, Gerard nodded, then carefully pried Frank off his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him up in his sleepy daze. He draped Frank’s arm over his shoulder, basically propping him up to stand as Frank’s feet had decided they weren't going to work.

A loud noise erupted from the door as Mikey yanked it open. He rolled his eyes when he saw Matt taking up the back seats, snoring his head off. Tapping his feet, Mikey woke him up. “Rise and shine.”

“Is it morning? Was I asleep that long?” Matt yawned, receiving a deadpan glare. He frowned as he gazed past Mikey in to the darkness. It clearly wasn't morning.

“Get your stuff, we got a room this time.” Mikey said as Matt moved around, picked up the keys to the vehicle, handed them to Mikey and hopped out, his shoes slapping against the concrete. To catch up to Ray, he dodged past them all and slung the strap over his shoulder, slowing down when he reached his friend. Patting his shoulder, they dived in to conversation.

“Can you get my things, too, Mikes?” Gerard asked, awkwardly shuffling towards their room.

“Sure.” Mikey followed suit, hauling Gerard’s and Frank’s things over his shoulder, then grabbed his own bags. The weight dragged him back, however, he was walking at the same pace as Gerard, so he didn't mind too much -as long as he wasn't alone at night.

-

With a great sigh, Gerard dropped Frank’s limp form on to the mattress, glad to stretch his back. Mikey entered, threw his brother’s bags at him, which he failed to catch, -including Frank’s- and then proceeded to flop down on the other single bed in the room.

“Who gets the floor this time?” Gerard groaned, shoving Frank’s legs to one side, allowing him to sit down as he kicked their belongings under the bed.

“You because you made me carry your stuff.” Mikey shot daggers. In retaliation, Gerard stuck his tongue out at him, quickly flipping him the bird.

“No fighting about this, guys.” Ray chipped in, flicking the switch on a lamp to brighten up the room. “Who slept on the floor last time?”

“Frank did, but look at him, he’s knackered.” Gerard frowned, glancing back at his best friend, who was sleeping soundly. His hair was over his eyes and Gerard gently swept it back, smiling faintly.

“I slept on a bed last time, so I guess I’ll take the floor.” Matt reasoned, reluctantly, and Mikey chucked him the spare blankets.

“Alright,” Ray scratched the back of his neck. “Do you want this bed, Mikey?”

Smiling gratefully at the offer, he accepted, though felt a pang of guilt for making Ray, the kindest person in the universe, sleep on a mangy motel floor. Luckily, they had spare blankets to use at a makeshift mattress for the unfortunate ones.

Sighing deeply, Gerard stared at the carpet, dreading what stains were there that they couldn't see. Then he turned his gaze to how much space was left on the bed with Frank being on it, contemplating whether both of them could fit. To be fair, they were both nearing being sacks of bones, due to the lack of healthy food and limited cash.

“I’ll share.” Gerard eventually decided, carefully moving Frank over to one side of the bed. He took Frank’s shoes off for him so he was more comfortable and with great difficulty, he got Frank’s body under the duvet so he wouldn't get cold. The movement caused Frank to stir and he stretched, his hoodie riding up, showing his stomach. His eyes fluttered open, drifting up to Gerard’s.

“Hi.” He murmured, noticing how Gerard’s gaze was somewhat distracted by the skin exposed on his stomach. “Hey, eyes up here.”

“Sorry, I’m tired.” He rubbed his eyes, sitting down on the mattress. “Do you mind if we share? The floor isn’t looking so good.”

Frank shook his head. “No, it’s fine.” He threw the covers back and shifted over more so Gerard could lie down.

“Thank you.” Gerard smiled. There wasn't much room, so they were basically pressed together, but he thought it was better than sleeping on a considerably dirty floor. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Gee.”


	2. Expectations

“Good news.” Mikey threw the curtains open, earning hisses of objection from the majority of the rest of the band members, who were all trying to catch up on the sleep they’d missed. None of them were grateful for the fact Mikey was an early riser, however, Ray often joined him, receiving perplexed expressions from the others.

“Is it that we’re getting paid to wake up early?” Frank groaned, rolling on his side to face away from the daylight streaming in through the dusty window panes. “Because if not, fuck off, and wake me up later.”

“Preferably in the afternoon.” Matt spoke up from the floor, dramatically holding a pillow over his face.

Rolling his eyes, Mikey folded his arms over his chest. “Quit whining. I was gonna say, we have another gig for tonight. Same venue.”

Upon hearing the good news, Ray propped himself up on his elbows, squinting at Mikey, who was just a silhouette against the sun at the moment. “What?”

“Well, apparently, we sold out of tickets last night and there are more people wanting to see us perform who didn't get to before. So they offered us more money if we’d stay a few more days.”

“Sweet.” Frank commented, his voice muffled by the duvet covers. He’d had no choice to listen to their droning voices, as he couldn't afford noise cancelling headphones, yet.

“A few more nights?” Matt asked, unimpressed. “I don't want to have to stay on this floor again.” He glanced at the carpet, scowling at the state it was in. “It smells like old socks and-”

“Are you sure that's not just you?” Frank quipped with a lazy smirk.

“Shut up.” Matt retorted.

“Oh, how original.”

“I vote for Mr. Iero over there, to sleep on the floor next.” Matt held his hand up, scowling.

“Guys, no fighting.” Ray interjected. “None of this’ll work if we don't cooperate.”

“He’s right, you know?” Mikey pressed his lips in to a thin line, switching his challenging gaze between a grumpy Matt and a dazed Frank. He waited, daring them to make another snide comment. They didn't exactly need the negativity. When neither of them spoke, he gave a small smile. “Anyway, we’ve got the day free in New Orleans before the concert tonight. I’d make the most of it, if I were you.”

“How about we all go out? Like a big, happy family.” Frank said sarcastically, earning a thoughtful look from Ray, who nodded.

“That’s not such a bad idea.”

“Are you kidding me?” Matt groaned, removing the pillow from his face and throwing it at Frank. Though it missed and hit the lamp on the bedside table instead, knocking it to the floor.

Frank sat up. “Good one. Very clever.”

Matt sighed loudly, raising his eyebrows at Mikey exasperatedly. “See what I have to put up with? Bloody pain in the arse.”

Slowly losing his patience, Ray got up, then pulled his suitcase out from underneath the bed. Gathering clothes for the day, he headed for the shower, but he paused, turning back to Matt and Frank. “No more fighting, please. You’re like children.” With that, he got first dibs on the bathroom.

Mikey had woken up ages ago, and had wandered around to discover breakfast was to start downstairs at eight o'clock. It popped in to his head and he voiced his findings aloud to no one in particular. “Breakfast’s at eight. I suggest you get a move on if you want some. It’s included in the price of the room, which I paid extra for, so take as much as you can.”

“Double sweet.” Frank grinned, rolling off the bed and only just managing to steady himself on his feet, which tingled as they came in to contact with the floor.  
Greasy black hair hiding his face, Gerard was still sound asleep, lips parted. He was curled up on his side. Surprisingly, he’d slept through Matt and Frank’s incessant bickering.

“Hey, Gee.” Frank shook his shoulder, gently, receiving a quiet moan in response. Sighing, he cursed how such a deep sleeper he seemed to be. “Hey, fucker.” Frank chuckled, grabbing Gerard and tossing him, not-so-gently, so he was lying on his back.

At this, a shocked squeak escaped Gerard’s lips, and he held his hands up in front of his face as a shield, peering through his fingers to see Frank’s cheeky grin. “What the hell?” He whined, brows furrowed.

“Breakfast time, get up, or I’ll carry you.”

Taking a deep breath, stretching his arms above his head, Gerard’s eyes fluttered shut again and he mumbled, “carry me.”

“No fucking way.” He laughed, letting go of his shoulders to retrieve his bags from under the bed.

“But you said you would.”

“That wasn't an option. I was trying to get you out of bed-”

Matt snickered, “I thought you usually tried to get people in to bed? Recently, though, that hasn't been working out too well for you, has it?”

“Shut your mouth, dipshit.” Frank picked up the pillow and chucked it back at Matt, who ducked just in time. “I don't do that.”

“ _Clearly_.”

Mikey, who had been sat in his phone in the corner on his phone, waiting for Ray, let out a noise of disgust and scrunched his nose. “Different topic, _please_.”

Smiling triumphantly, feeling he’d won, Matt finally made the effort to get dressed and began sorting through his clothes, seeking out the least dirty ones.

Life on the road also meant no washing machines, or dryers, and they frequently had to do their laundry at dingy laundrettes. More often that not, the machine would eat their coins rather than actually work. It pissed them all off. Normally, Frank was the one to try to bring machines to life with abuse, by yelling profanities and booting it, which got them all kicked out pretty quick. Honestly, they’d probably have to start going without him.

“Bathroom’s free.” Ray announced, steeping out cleanly dressed and refreshed -well, as much as he could be in a motel.

“Dibs!” Matt leaped up, grabbed his things and raced towards the bathroom, dodging past a bewildered Ray, who pressed himself against the wall to avoid being trampled on.

“Not so fucking fast!” Frank shouted, jumping on and over the mattresses, only just making it there before Matt. He slammed the door shut with a harsh bang and Matt pounded on it with his fist, annoyed beyond reason.

“That’s not fair! Open up!”

Mikey quite literally face-palmed, shaking his head. “Oh my God.” He breathed, thankful they weren’t in public.

With all the commotion, Gerard groggily sat up in bed, digging the palms of his hands in to his eyes to try and wake himself up. “What-what’s-” he yawned, “what’s going on?”

Ray blinked, zipping up his suitcase before walking to the exit. “Frank and Matt are being two big babies.”

“What time is it?” He combed his fingers through his tangled hair, narrowing his eyes as they adjusted to the light.

“Ten to eight.” Mikey replied, taking his phone off charge and sliding it in to his jean’s pocket. Ray opened the front door for them both. “Tell the others we went for breakfast. Tell them to get a move-on, too.”

Nodding, Gerard yawned, wearily waving goodbye. He swung his legs off the bed, gripping the edges of the mattress. There was a dull ache flaring behind his eyes and he squeezed them shut, taking a deep breath. “Coffee.” He muttered to himself, knowing he'd be fine once the caffeine was in his system.

“Gerard?” Frank called from the bathroom.

“What?”

“Can you get my clothes?” He’d forgotten them in his fight against Matt -who was now slouched on the other bed- for the bathroom.

“Sure.” Gerard reached for Frank’s bags, picking out baggy jeans, a random t-shirt and an oversized hoodie, which Gerard often liked to borrow. Forcing his legs to work, he trudged over to the bathroom, knocking on the door. “You’re not naked, are you?” He quickly added.

“Nope.” Frank opened the door a fraction, then took his clothes.

“You are, aren't you?”

“Believe what you want.”

“Don’t come out here.” Matt piped up. “That won't be a pretty sight.”

“Shut up, fucker.” Frank scolded. “Or I’ll flash you.”

“No, thanks.”

Rolling his eyes, Gerard shuffled over to his own bags, dug out a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a loose-fitting tank top. Unsuccessful in finding a decent jacket, he grabbed one of Frank’s oversized ones, hoping he wouldn't mind too much. “Hey, Matt?”

“Yeah?” He looked up from his phone.

“Can you turn around so I can get changed?”

“Sure.” He swivelled around, mostly engaged in his phone anyway.

As fast as he could, before Frank could step out of the bathroom and see him, Gerard got dressed for the upcoming, undoubtedly rain-filled day. Then he stuffed his pyjamas in to his bag and got out his sunglasses in the process.

“Look who’s trying to be Mr. Cool.” Matt joked. “Those make you look daft, no offence.”

Not in the mood for an argument, he just shrugged and agreed. “I look daft no matter what I do.”

“Lying will not be tolerated.” Frank said as he crammed his dirty clothes in to a ball. Matt zoomed past him in to the bathroom, quite intentionally knocking Frank’s shoulder as he did.

Gerard didn't reply.

“Seriously,” Frank shuffled closer, pushing Gerard’s sunglass back so they were in his hair and he could see his face, “you’re pretty, Gee. Flaunt it.”

“I’m not very good at ‘ _flaunting it_ ’.” He scoffed. A blush crept up his neck, blooming a soft pink on his slightly freckled cheeks.

“You do on stage.” Frank smirked, referring to the absurd amount of moaning Gerard did at concerts.

Sighing, Gerard frowned sadly, staring down at his feet. “That’s different.”

“Alright,” he nodded, “well, act like you don’t give a fuck. Act like you’re the second most beautiful motherfucker ever to walk the earth.”

Gerard a chuckled, adjusting his sunglasses so they were sitting on his nose. “Why the second?”

A grin spread across Frank’s lips. “Because I’m the first.”

-

Sat in the corner of the motel diner, Gerard had his sunglasses shielding his eyes, hood pulled up, which had messed up his hair so it was in knots around his face like a lion’s mane, and his head resting against the glass of the window.

Mikey, Ray and Matt where engaged in their own conversation, arguing over the film they were going to watch at the cinema later. So far, Mikey had sided with Ray, claiming they should see the new Star Wars, while Matt was seemingly offended at the fact they didn't want to go to the new X-Men instead.

Frank had opted out of that conversation ten minutes ago; it’d started to grow tedious. Now, he was mopping up maple syrup with that last of his pancake.

“What shall we do?” Frank asked, licking his sticky fingers. “Unless you want to see either of those?”

“I don’t mind.” Gerard sighed, shifting in to a more comfortable position as his leg had started to go numb.

“Come on,” Frank nudged him playfully in the ribs, “it’s New Orleans. It’s not everyday we’re here.”

His hood eventually slipped off his head and he didn't care to adjust it. Drowsily, Gerard turned to look at Frank. “Really, I don’t mind. Anyway, it’s better if you choose, because if it were up to me, we’d tour the comic book stores and I know you wouldn't like that.”

Frowning, Frank shook his head. “No, we can go to comic book stores, if you want?”

Mikey suddenly butted in, knocking on the table to grab their attention. “Hey, which is better: Star Wars or X-Men?”

“X-Men.” Gerard answered. “They have wolverine.”

Matt grinned. “It’s settled.”

“No,” Ray said, “Frank has to answer.”

Taking a deep breath, Matt rolled his eyes. “Right. He’ll choose Star Wars just to go against me.”

“That is true.” Frank smirked.

“Anyway,” Mikey huffed, “Gerard only chose X-Men because Hugh Jackman plays him in the films.”

Sliding down in his seat, Gerard frowned. “Liar.”

“Oh my God!” Frank exclaimed frustratedly. “It’s not a life changing decision. Choose a fucking film and go see it. Do rock, paper, scissors over it, I don’t care.”

“He has a point.” Gerard sniffed, wiping his nose -out of habit rather than need- with his sleeve. “It’s getting a bit ridiculous.”

“If it matters so much, go see both. They’re playing at different times, right?”

An identical expression washed over all of their faces; one of utter disbelief. They’d all been oblivious to that simple fact.

At this, Gerard giggled. Smiling fondly, Frank glanced at Gerard, finding his giggle adorable.

“Oh, wow.” Ray ran a hand down his face, dumfounded. “We’re so stupid.”

Mikey resisted the urge to bang his forehead on the table and settled for a face-palm instead. Matt just shook his head.

Frank wiped his hands on his jeans. “Seems so.”

-

At around half eleven, Mikey, Ray and Matt had set off to the cinema with pre-bought chocolate bars and drinks that they were going to sneak in in their huge hoodie pockets. There was no way they were paying for over-expensive, ironically cheap-tasting, popcorn -especially since they didn't have a lot of money to begin with.

After finishing their drinks at the motel diner, Gerard and Frank headed off down the main road, not quite sure where the hell they were going to go. Neither of them had been to the New Orleans before, so they were currently winging it. That was until Frank practically jumped on the spot, clinging on to a startled Gerard’s arm.

“I know what I wanna do.” He grinned, a gleam in his eyes.

Gerard smiled, ignoring the fact Frank had almost knocked his glasses off his nose. “What?”

“I,” Frank straightened up, linking his hands behind his back, “wanna get a tattoo.”

Eyes widening, a panicked look crossed Gerard’s face. “Are you sure?”

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’. “I’ve wanted one for ages. And what better day to get one?” He glanced at Gerard, who gulped, nodding his head slowly, absentmindedly.

Furrowing his brows, Frank picked up on his anxiety. “Are you okay?”

Gerard nodded again, running his fingers through his hair. “I just don't like needles. They freak me out.”

“Oh,” Frank looked down at the pavement, counting the cracks in the concrete, “I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” Gerard pressed his lips in to the thin smile.

“We can go somewhere else, I guess.”

“No.” He looked at Frank with a determined expression on his own face. “I don't want to be the reason you didn't get a tattoo. We’re still going.”

Despite his concerns, he smiled -teeth and all. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

Frank hooked his arm through Gerard’s, pulling him closer so they were practically stepping on each other’s feet. “Thank you.” He placed a chaste kiss to Gerard's cheek, causing him to blush like mad and Gerard was thankful he was wearing dark sunglasses that hid most of his face.

Sure, they kissed on stage, but this was the first time either of them had shared a kiss casually. Honestly, with the slightly awkward silence that followed, Frank was beginning to regret it.

Gerard could feel the tension too, so he cleared his throat. “Do you know where the nearest tattoo parlour is?”

“Google?” Frank suggested, knowing full well they’d be wandering around for hours if they were left to their own devices.

“Good idea.”

Clearly, there was a lingering self-consciousness as they both suddenly became aware of the fact their arms were linked and their shoulders were pressed together. However, Frank pulled away to begin searching for directions on his phone anyway, so Gerard let out the breath he'd been holding in and tried to relax. On the other hand, Frank’s face still felt like it was burning. Hopefully, the awkward air between them would disappear soon.

-

Eventually, through a lot of confusion and wrong turns, they had found the tattoo parlour on the corner of a busy street near the middle of the city. It was much more crowded compared to the area their concert had taken place. They walked close to one another, scared of being separated.

Gerard felt so insignificant and invisible. There were so many people, with their fair share of problems and it made Gerard feel ten times smaller. Though, to calm himself down, he kept a constant reminder at the front of his mind that everyone was in their own little bubble and probably felt the same way he did.

Frank kept himself focused on the tattoo parlour across the road to keep his mind off the amount of people there.

To confirm that Gerard was, in fact, invisible, a man speed walked right in to him, spilling coffee all down the front of Gerard's hoodie.

“Excuse me.” The man muttered before carrying on his way, ditching his now empty coffee cup on the floor.

Gerard unzipped the hoodie and held it arms length away, shaking it so some of the liquid flew off.

“Rude.” Frank scowled, snatching the cup back up and lobbing it at the man. Sadly, he missed, hitting a nearby lamppost instead.

“Frank!” Gerard hissed, eyes wide. “You can't do that... As funny as it would be, you can't do that.”

Rolling his eyes, Frank shrugged. “You gotta learn to sand up for yourself.”

“It’s fine.” Gerard mumbled, frowning at the huge wet patch on the hoodie. It’d soaked right through and would be uncomfortable to wear.

Frank narrowed his eyes at it. “Is that mine?”

“You only just noticed? I thought you knew.”

“No,” he sighed.

The cold air nipped at Gerard ‘s bare arms and he shivered, hugging the balled up hoodie, regardless of the fact it was damp.

“Will you be alright like that?” Frank asked, considering lending him the hoodie he was currently wearing.

Gerard nodded. “Let’s just get your skin stabbed with a needle repeatedly.”

“That’s a great way to put it.”

“What? It’s what happens.” He adjusted his sunglasses, pushing them up in to his hair. They were crossing a busy road and he was not about to get run-over because he couldn't see properly.

“Ready?” Frank grabbed his arm, waiting for the cars to disperse. Gerard pointed towards the traffic lights, but got ignored as Frank shouted, “go!” and dragged him across the road.

“Hey!” Gerard whined, only for his voice to be lost in the wind.

-

Sat in the parlour, hearing the buzzing noise of needles as they came in to contact with skin, wasn’t Gerard’s idea of a fun day out. However, it put a wide grin on Frank’s face, so he tried to keep his complaints and irrational fears to himself.

About an hour ago, Frank had decided on getting ‘Halloween’ stamped across his fingers, claiming it was a late birthday present to himself. Besides, after spending the majority of the year in a cramped van with four other miserable boys, he deserved it.

There wasn't really anything to do to keep himself entertained, and Gerard had considered taking a nap until it was done, but then the thought of other people seeing him passed out in a chair shoved the idea right out of his mind.

Eventually, Gerard dumped the drying hoodie on a chair in the corner and went outside for a smoke. He pulled a cigarette from the packet in his jean’s pocket, then retrieved his white lighter from his back pocket. It was a nightmare trying to light the dam thing in the wind, but he finally succeeded and his muscles relaxed considerably once the toxic smoke was swirling through his lungs. He put the sunglasses back on the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the wall, crossing one foot over the other.

Gerard marvelled in the feeling the cigarette rewarded him with before stomping it under his toe and returning back to his original place in the corner. Fortunately, just as he sat down, Frank emerged in front of him, startling him a little.

“Look how rad this is.” He splayed his fingers out, smiling widely at Gerard, eagerly awaiting his reaction.

“Impressive.” Gerard smiled, flicking his eyes to Frank’s. “Doesn't it hurt?”

“Like a bitch.”

He chuckled, taking the sunglasses off to get a better look. “Worth it, though, right?”

“Definitely.”

-

Apparently, they’d misjudged the time and had had to race back. Now, neither of them were that fit and they were panting messes of sweat by the time they arrived at the venue. Mikey, Ray and Matt were stood waiting, all of them seeming more than a little pissed off.

“Finally!” Mikey exclaimed, shoving Frank’s guitar in to his hands, causing him to almost drop it.

“We’re literally wanted on stage in five minutes.” Ray folded his arms over his chest. “Where the hell have you two been?”

Taking a deep breath, Frank just shook his head, struggling to form an answer.

Gerard caught his breath first, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. “Out.”

“Really?” Matt said sarcastically.

Resisting the urge to punch him, Frank settled for shoving his fist near his face, showing off his tattoos.

“Nice.” Mikey commented, then grabbed them both by the shoulder and hauled them forwards. “Get yourselves together quickly.”

They could hear the roar of the crowds, sparking both excitement and anxiety.

With their energy already drained, and their bodies already hot and sweaty, neither Gerard nor Frank was in the mood to perform and make their conditions worse.

Though, they soldiered on, taking two water bottles each and finishing them in record time before halfway in to the show.

Usually, Gerard would strut about the stage and put on a real performance, however, as he was exhausted and although he tried his best, for the majority of the concert, he was clinging on to the mic stand for dear life. Also, usually, Frank would totally thrash around the stage and give his all, but failed to do so as, he too, was basically half asleep.

Fortunately, regardless of their toned down attitudes, the crowd enjoyed themselves, singing along to almost every word with their hands reaching out towards them.

“It’s amazing,” Gerard spoke in to the mic as they were coming to the end of their show, “that all of you wonderful people are here to see us; four lame ass dudes from New Jersey.” He held the mic out to the crowd, receiving an eruption of cheers in response. Then Gerard winked at Frank, waving him over. Grinning, he held the mic so both of them could be heard through it, though their cheeks were still smushed together at the weird angle they had to tilt their heads in.

“We are My Chemical Romance.” They spoke in unison. “We all thank you.”

The crowd howled.

Unraveling the wire from around his wrist, Gerard slid the mic back on the stand.

“And goodnight!”

-

“You,” Matt pointed at Frank sternly, not wanting for it to cause an unnecessary scene, “you’re on the floor this time.”

“Oh, goodie.” Frank smiled sarcastically, reluctantly trading the comfy mattress for the pile of blankets on the floor. Normally, he’d strike up an argument, and fire insults until he won, but he was too shattered. Instead, he collapsed in to the blankets on the floor, wrapping them around himself. Luckily, he’d been the first one in the bathroom that night and had been able to shower and change out of his dirty clothes.

While he was perfectly content at that moment, most of the others were not.

“Gerard.” Mikey banged an angry fist on the bathroom door for what felt like the hundredth time. “Hurry up!”

“What?” Gerard called back.

“Hurry up!”

“I’m in the shower!” He shouted above the sound of running water. To be fair, he’d only just gotten in after Ray, and was going to take his sweet time while it was his turn.

Rolling his eyes, Mikey returned to sit on the bed, which already had Ray lying on it as he got to sleep in the bed this time. To pass the time, he played mindless games on his phone, until, after what seemed like hours, Gerard stepped out of the bathroom, clothes balled up in one hand and a towel draped over his shoulder.

“There you go, your highness.” He stuck his tongue out at his brother, who just sighed, rolled his eyes and bumped in to him accidentally-on-purpose as he trudged to the bathroom. Gerard chucked the towel over the radiator, shoved his clothes in a separate bag to his clean ones, then glanced around the room. His eyes landed on Frank, who was lying casually with his legs crossed and his hands behind his head.

“What’s up, Gee?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’re looking lost.”

“Where am I gonna sleep?”

Matt spoke up, “you slept on the bed last night, so anywhere but here.”

Sighing, Gerard ran his fingers through his damp hair. “But... I don’t want to.”

“I did.”

He shot a scowl at Matt. “Do you know how filthy these fucking floors are?”

“Yes. As I said, I was down there last night.”

Gerard flipped him the bird, to which Matt shrugged and rolled on to his side, wrapping himself up in the duvet.

“Hey,” Frank tapped Gerard’s leg with his foot, “come lie with me.” He reached up, grabbed Gerard’s hands and yanked him down on top of him. Letting out a shriek of surprise, Gerard quickly placed his hands either side of Frank’s head, trying to avoid landing on top of him. His hair acted as a shield from the rest of the room, so long it ticked Frank’s cheeks.

Gerard bit his lip, a blush creeping up his neck. “Hi, there.”

“Hey.”

“Was that really necessary?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Frank replied bluntly, a smirk tugging at his lips. He moved sideways to allow space for Gerard, but one of his legs was in between Gerard’s legs and he kneed him in the thigh, causing Gerard to wince.

“That was so close to my...” He trailed off, the blush returning.

Frank frowned, “sorry, Gee.”

To avoid any injuries, Gerard lowered himself down to lie next to Frank, their shoulders touching. “A bigger floor would be good.”

“How about no floor and a bed?” Frank huffed, shifting a little. He brought the blankets up to his chin, then draped some over Gerard, who smiled gratefully.

“Goodnight, sugar.” He rolled over on to his side, facing away.

“Goodnight, Gee.”

-

In the middle of the night, Gerard was awoken by a strange buzzing noise. Furrowing his brow, he propped himself up on his elbows, struggling to see anything in the dark. He could hear Frank snoring softly beside him, the streetlamp casting a dim glow and illuminating his face, especially his lip ring, which gleamed a little.

Refocusing on the buzzing noise, he followed it to his bag and dug out his phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen. Rubbing his eyes, he read the caller ID; _Bert_.

Sighing, he decided to take the call outside and tried to quietly left the room, though he stumbled and crashed in to the door. “Ow...” He muttered, holding on to the handle to steady himself.

“Gerard?” Mikey asked sleepily, grudgingly lifting his head off the pillow. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Bert called.” Gerard replied, the phone screen lighting up his face.

“At this hour?”

“Apparently?”

“That guys weird.” He mumbled before his eyelids drooped and he returned to the sweet get-away that was sleep.

Even though Mikey could hear him, he whispered, “he’s not that weird.” Unlocking the door, he stepped outside, the wind instantly nipping at his bare legs as he’d only worn shorts. He could see now that that had been a bad idea, but he didn't know he'd be outside at four o'clock in the morning.

It was utterly silent outside, save for the hum of a stray car engine.

Tapping the screen, Gerard answered the call and raised the phone to his ear. “Bert?”

Dazed and confused, Frank was awoken by the gentle slam of a door. Instantly, his mind jumped to _intruder_ , but then he noticed the empty space next to him. “Gee?” He called out, raising his head.

Staying silent, Gerard just switched his phone off, then crawled under the covers again beside Frank, who shivered when he felt how cold Gerard was.

“What were you doing out there?”

Taking a deep, wavering breath, he lied down, facing Frank, who rolled on to his side, too. “Bert called.”

“What did he want?”

Discreetly wiping the surfacing tears from his eyes, Gerard swallowed the lump in his throat. “He wanted to know where I was. He was mad that I hadn't told him we’re on tour.”

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, closing his eyes.

Knowing Gerard wasn't going to open up much more than that, Frank closed his eyes too. “Goodnight, again... no, wait, good morning.”

Gerard chuckled. “Good morning.”


	3. World So Cold

“I swear,” Gerard ran his fingers through his hair as Mikey passed him his bags out the back of the van, “If there are cobwebs everywhere, I’m moving house.”

“Don't be so dramatic.” Frank sighed, rolling his eyes. “We haven’t been away that long.”

“Spiders don't care how long you’ve been away.” He countered, the thought of them sending unsettling shivers down his spine. Although everyone that knew him had decided his fear of the little critters was irrational, it didn't stop Gerard from being oddly too afraid of them. “Just as long as you're gone.”

Taking a deep breath, Mikey locked up the van, then began walking towards the house. He didn't bother waiting for Frank or Gerard, who were still dying under the weight of their huge bags as their strength had been taken away by how tired they were.

“I'm sure it’ll be fine.” Frank smiled encouragingly. “If there are any spiders in your room, I’ll get rid of them, yeah?”

Sighing, Gerard nodded. Dragging his bag along the floor, he pushed his sunglasses in to his hair so he could see properly. Despite the fact it was dark, nearing midnight, he’d still had his glasses on during the ride home.

They all stumbled inside, tripping over the upturned corner of the rug one by one, like dominoes.

Mikey groaned, dumping his bags at the bottom of the stars. “Turn a light on.”

The nearest to the door, Frank, flicked the switch, though the light stayed off. “Did you pay your electric bill?”

“No.” Mikey huffed. “That’s another thing to do.”

“We don't have enough money.” Gerard spoke up, wandering in to the living room, hunched over in case of a spider hanging from the ceiling. Yes, he was that paranoid about them.

“I guess it’s time to ask mum and dad... Again.” Mikey shook his head. Rubbing his tired eyes, he grabbed a torch from one of the cabinets, then groggily made his way upstairs, bags dragging behind him. “I’ll be upstairs. Don't wake me up.”

“I thought you were the early bird?” Frank raised his eyebrows, but Mikey had disappeared in to the shadows already.

“Are you staying over?” Gerard asked, knocking his shoulder on the door frame in a dazed state as he traipsed in to the kitchen, making his way to the basement.

“Yeah,” Frank sighed, “I don't think my parents will want me to be coming back at this hour. Is that okay?”

A few hours ago, Ray and Matt had already gone back to see their families.

Opening the basement door, Gerard glanced back at him and smiled. “Of course.”

“It’s darker in here than the actual sky.” Frank remarked, keeping one hand on the wall so he didn't tumble down the stairs. Even though he knew it wouldn't work, he tried the light switch anyway.

“Here.” Gerard’s face was suddenly illuminated by a lamp [battery operated] and he grinned maniacally.

“Dude, that's creepy as fuck.”

“Thank you. I do my best.” He chucked his bags in to the corner of his room, Frank’s following not long after. Sighing dramatically, Gerard flopped on to his bed face-first, snuggling in to the blankets. His eyes fluttered shut as he smiled contently, glad to be back in his own bed.

Biting his lip, Frank hurled himself on to the other side of the bed -thankful it was a double or else he would have landed on Gerard. He rested his head on his hand, propping his elbow up on the pillow, gazing down at Gerard, who furrowed his brows as he sensed Frank’s eyes on him.

“What?”

“Hi, there.” Frank chuckled lightly, tapping Gerard on the nose. However Gerard wasn't impressed and opened his eyes to playfully glare up at him.

“What? I’m tired.”

“Me too.” Frank sighed, reluctnalty pushing himself up to sit cross legged. “But we need to get ready for bed. You can't sleep in your clothes again.”

“Yes, I can.” Gerard huffed and rolled over.

“No,” he whined, shaking Gerard’s shoulder, “Get up now so we can get it over with. You can only blame yourself when your teeth start to rot.”

“Since when did you become the mum of our little group?”

Rolling his eyes, Frank flipped Gerard on to his back and leaned over him, putting his hand either sides of Gerard’s head. “Come on, Gee. You need to look after yourself.”

Chewing on his lip and briefly distracting Frank in the process, Gerard grudgingly agreed. Grinning smugly, Frank moved off the bed and grabbed Gerard's hands, dragging him off the mattress to the adjoining bathroom that the basement had. He got their bags, digging his toothbrush out of his own, Gerard doing the same.

When they were sorted and almost ready for bed, Gerard dug out some pyjamas from his wardrobe, knowing he wouldn't have any clean ones in his on-tour bag.

“Hey, Frankie?”

“Yeah?” He glanced over as he took his shirt off and tugged a new one on, leaving his hair sticking up everywhere.

“Can you either turn around or close your eyes so I can get changed?” Gerard offered a small smile, kicking his shoes off in to a pile in the corner.

“Sure.” He nodded, jumping back on the bed and burying himself in blankets.

“Thank you.” He shrugged off all the layers of clothing, dumped them on the floor, then pulled on loose-fitting pyjamas.

A few months ago they would have fitted, or maybe even had been a bit too small, but he'd lost a considerable amount of weight since then and he didn't plan on gaining it back anytime soon. For the entirety of high school, everyone teased him about his weight and he finally decided to do something about it. He wasn't going to be bullied for being big in his adult life, too.

Gerard crawled in to bed, lying down on his side next to Frank, who scowled as Gerard had let all the cold air in. It was freezing and being in the basement didn’t help.

“You still have your sunglasses on.” Frank pointed out, pushing them up in to Gerard’s messy hair.

“Really?” Gerard shuddered as he felt Frank’s fingers graze his skin. “I didn't think they would have stayed on.”

Smiling, Frank slid them off, folded them up and reached over to put them on the bedside table. “There.”

“Thank you, again.” He smiled, but it fell when they were suddenly plunged in to darkness. “Was that you?” He asked, hoping to God it was.

“Yeah, I turned the lamp off.” Frank replied. Gerard felt Frank’s warm breath on his cheeks as he settled down beside him. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

-

Waking to an empty bed, Frank groggily sat up, digging the heels of his palms in to his eyes to try and get them to focus. It was still quite dark as the only light source was the sun coming in through the dusty window above the bed.

Pulling on the closest thing he could find, which happened to be a fluffy dressing gown Gerard had gotten for his birthday from his aunt, who apparently didn't know anything about Gerard’s style, Frank trudged upstairs, the smell of pancakes greeting him as he entered the kitchen.

Mikey was stood by the cooker, a spatular in one hand and phone in the other. “Hey.” He glanced over at Frank, who seemed dazed, but glad he was there.

“Can I have some?” He asked hopefully, taking a seat on a stool at the counter. He rested his elbows on the top, resting his chin on his arms.

“Yeah.” Placing his phone on the counter, Mikey flipped the pancake before it burned, then shot a smug look at Frank. “Do you want a pretty pink t-shirt to go with your fluffy robe, Miss Iero?”

“Excuse me?” Finally examining what he was wearing, Frank let out a short laugh. Admittedly, he knew he probably looked ridiculous. “It’s Gerard’s.”

“What’s mine?” Gerard appeared at the doorway, pulling his combat boots on. He wore ripped jeans that were more rips than jeans and a t-shirt with the armholes cut down to the hem at the seams. “Oh,” he frowned, “That... My aunt got me that.”

“Does she hate you?” Frank chucked swivelling around to face Gerard, who huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Where are you off to?” Mikey piped up, a confused look on his face. “You're gonna be freezing going out there like that.”

Gerard shrugged, cheeks heating up as he slowly realised how much skin he was showing. “Bert’s.”

Frank glanced at the clock on the wall. “This early?”

“He wanted to see me as soon as we got home.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. There was an exhausted look on his face, eyelids drooping as he tried to collect the energy to stay awake.

Of course, Frank noticed. “Are you sure you don't want to sleep some more first?” He got up, placing a hand on Gerard’s shoulder as he tilted his head to see through Gerard's shield of tangled hair. “You look tired.”

Quietly, Gerard chuckled. “Thanks. You're really one for compliments.” He unhooked his sunglasses from the neck of his shirt, sliding them on to the bridge of his nose.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Frank sighed, glancing over at Mikey for help with the matter.

Since they’d all met Bert, the only solid assumption they could make about him with the evidence they'd gathered, was that he was a bad influence on Gerard, who happened to not see it. Though, perhaps they were wrong. Perhaps there were two sides to Bert and they’d only ever witnessed the bad side. But, how often did that happen?

Biting his lip, Gerard checked the time. “I should get going.” He snatched up his combat boots and sat on the stairs, quickly tugging them on.

Mikey brought over a plate of pancakes, a concerned look on his face. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. “Do you want breakfast before you go?”

“Oh,” Gerard shrugged, tying the laces, “It’s fine. Me and Bert’ll go out for something later.”

“You sure?” Mikey pressed, eyebrows knitted together.

Forcing a smile, Gerard nodded, then opened the front door, waving goodbye to Mikey and Frank, who was leaning on the doorframe to the living room, lips sewn shut so he didn’t blurt out anything that would upset Gerard and insult Bert -though it was difficult because he really wanted to do the latter.

Once Gerard left, Frank let out a huge sigh of frustration, head rolling back to stare up at the ceiling as he trudged back in to the kitchen.

“Something wrong?” Mikey raised his eyebrows, setting the plates down on the counter and sliding one over to Frank.

“It’s just,” he picked up a pancake, tearing it in to little pieces, which didn’t impress Mikey as he intended for the food to be eaten and not played with, “I hate that guy.”

“What, Gerard?” Mikey teased, knowing full well who he was actually referring to.

“No, stupid. _Bert_.”

“I know, I know.” He turned the cooker off, sitting down.

“He’s just... Not good for Gee. Haven’t you noticed?” Only mush was left on his plate now and he frowned.

“Yes, I’ve noticed.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So what are we gonna do about it?” Frank groaned, carding his fingers through his hair and pulling on the strands in annoyance.

“There’s not much we can do about it, so don't even try. If Gerard wants to date Bert, he can date him.” Mikey let out a deep breath. “We can’t just... Tell him not to. We can't decided what he can and can't do.”

Unfortunately, Frank knew Mikey was right and he huffed in defeat, pushing his plate of mush to the side. “Got any bread?”

“I spend all morning making my famous pancakes, and you totally ruin them.” He whined, shooting daggers at him.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, wrapping the fluffy dressing gown further around himself, attempting to ward off the cold weather.

Sighing, Mikey gestured to the fridge. “It’s in there.”

“Thanks.”

“Next time I make pancakes, you’re not having any.”

“Damn.”

-

Although he didn’t want to, Frank had to return home at some point. However, he wasn't going in a fluffy dressing gown and thin pyjamas, so he made his way back down to the basement. Seeing as the lights didn’t work and he didn’t want to waste the charge on Gerard’s lamp, he had to fumble around in the dark for his bags and pull out an outfit at random. Hopefully, he didn’t end up with a weird combination of clothes.

After gathering up his belongings and double checking he hadn't left anything, he wandered upstairs, bid goodbye to Mikey, who was lying on the sofa watching tv, and tried not to let the wind slam the front door on his way out.

Immediately, he wanted to dash back inside. The weather wasn't kind, the sun wasn't out and he was pretty sure his toes would fall off due to frostbite. He’d barely made it out of the driveway before a whirl of wind nearly knocked him off his feet. Usually, winter wasn't that bad in Jersey, but it was being proven wrong today.

“Fucking great.” Frank mumbled, adjusting the straps of his bag on his shoulders, trying not to drop his guitar as he did so.

-

“Mum?” He called out after shutting the door, pushing his hood down and sweeping back his hair. Earlier on, it'd started raining and he’d had to use his guitar as a substitute umbrella, but it obviously hadn't worked and he’d ended up soaked regardless. Luckily, their house was only a forty-five minute walk from the Way’s place, though it'd seemed like forever.

“Frank?” His mother came down the stairs, smiled when she saw him and pulled him in to a bone crushing hug, causing Frank to drop his guitar. “You’ve been gone for so long, what the hell have you been doing?”

Suddenly, it hit him that he hadn't told his parents about their tour, or the fact they were moderately famous.

She pulled away, tucking his long hair behind his ears, which were numb and red from the cold. “How’s your job at the tattoo parlour going? You weren’t fired, were you?”

Frank just furrowed his eyebrows at her. She didn't know he’d quit working there and poured all the money he'd earned in to the band.

“You were, weren’t you?” Her eyes went wide. “Is that why you've brought your things with you? You can’t pay for the flat anymore?” She pulled him in to another hug, stroking his hair. “Aw, honey.”

“No,” Frank chuckled, surprised at how quickly she'd jumped to conclusions, “I wasn't fired and I still have the flat.” _Barely_.

“What is it, then?”

“I’ve been at Gerard’s for a few nights. That’s why I’ve got my stuff.” He paused, wiggling his way out of the hug. “As for the rest, I’ll tell you later. I wanna warm up first.” He rubbed his hands together, dumped his bags on the sofa in the living room and then dived straight for the fire, which he was extremely grateful for.

“Who’s Gerard again?”

Sighing, Frank hung his head low. “The one you don’t like.”

“I never said I don't like him.” She crossed her arms defensively, averting her gaze. “I just said he’s a bit... _Odd_.”

“Define _‘odd’_.” Frank scowled.

“Oh, never mind. I don't want to argue, I haven’t seen you in ages.” A smile spread across her face and she perked up a bit. “How about you get a hot shower and warm up while I make dinner, then you can tell me what you've been doing? Something good, I hope.”

Staying silent, Frank bit his lip, grinding his teeth against his lip ring. He wasn't sure his mother would think spending his college money on a life-long, ridiculously unstable dream was something she’d approve of, but he was too ecstatic about it to care.

She disappeared in to the kitchen and Frank allowed himself to relax. Yes, he loved his mother, but she had such strong opinions -most of which he didn't agree with. He hoped his father would be more understanding.

-

By now, his father had gotten home from work, Frank had taken a much-appreciated shower and changed in to some pyjamas [his mother insisted he stay the night; he wasn't going to complain], there was dinner sitting on the table and the sky outside had morphed from a dismal grey to a jet-black blue.

“Frank, dinner’s ready!” She announced. “Get your dad, too.”

Sighing, Frank trudged upstairs to his father's office and knocked on the door, waiting for a reply.

“Come in.”

“Hey,” Frank poked his head around the door, smiling widely at his dad, who he was glad to see, “Mum said dinner’s ready.”

“I’ll be right down, I’m just transferring these.”

“Transferring what?”

His father smirked, “The new marvel movies.”

“You got them already?” Frank moved to stand behind him, reading the screen. The movies were not-so-legally being downloaded from a not-so-legal service. “Which ones?”

“Spiderman and Endgame.”

“Sweet,” Frank grinned, “Come on. They’ll be done by the time we’ve eaten.”

“Why’re you so eager?”

They exited the office, trotting downstairs to the kitchen.

“I have some news.” Frank couldn't keep the joy out of his tone.

“Good news, I hope.”

“Yup.” He hopped over to the table, took a seat by the window and examined what his mother had made. Chicken pasta, apparently. “Mum, I don't eat meat.” His smile faltered. How could she forget? He’d mentioned it often enough.

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey.” She sat down too, across from him, his father beside her. “Just pick the bits out.”

“Fine,” he sighed, using his fork to fish them out and make a pile on the table, which his mother wasn't too impressed by as it was going to stain the wood.

“What’s this news you’ve got to tell us?” His father piped up, breaking the growing tension.

“Well,” Frank was nearly bouncing with excitement, totally ignoring his food, “You know Gerard and Mikey?” He shot a look at his mother, warning her that if she started insulting either of them, he was going to flip. “Their friend, Ray, called me about a great opportunity a couple of months back. Actually, I think over a year ago, now.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway, he told me that they needed a guitarist for their band-”

“Oh, that's great.” His father smiled, igniting a flare of hope in Frank’s chest. Maybe his parents would be happy for him.

“They have a band?” His mother narrowed her eyes slightly, crushing Frank’s brief hope.

“ _Yes_.” He stated firmly. “And they asked me if I would do it. Obviously, I accepted because I didn’t have much else going on and it’s been unbelievably awesome so far. In fact,” he paused for effect, “We just came back from being on tour. We had to buy a van and it’s not so big, but it’s good en-”

Huffing, his mother raised her eyebrows, cutting him off. “You’ve been touring around with people we barely know? Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“But-”

“ _No_ , Frank.” She held up a hand to silence him. “And, what's this about a van? You’ve been touring in a _van_?”

“Well, we’re not rich.” Frank scowled, anger bubbling to the surface.

“Sounds like fun.” HIs father interjected, trying to see the bight side. Honestly, he thought it was a fantastic experience to have.

“ _Fun_?” His mother scoffed. “I hope you’re not thinking of doing it again, are you?”

“Calm down.” Frank rolled his eyes. “Nothing bad happened, I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, you got lucky this time. But what happens next time?”

“I don't know, I’m not psychic.” He muttered, half wishing his mother hadn't heard.

She had, but ignored the comment. “You can't do this again. I won't allow it.”

“Really?” It was his father defending him now. “When I was young I would have killed for the chance to do something like this. This is a wonderful opportunity for him to pursue something he loves and you don’t even want him to try?”

“Not if it means he’s galavanting about with these idiots-”

“Hey,” Frank stood, the chair scratching loudly against the floor, “You don't get to insult my friends. Me, fine, it’s what you do, but they mean a lot to me and so does this band.” He threw his fork down and it clattered, causing them to wince. “I’m not staying here if you're gonna be like this.”

“Frank.” His father followed him in to the hall, leaving his wife to sit there and glower.

“What?” Frank didn't look up as he began yanking his shoes and coat on, not bothering to change out of his pyjamas. He knew the weather outside was going to torture him for it, but he just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“You know she's only worried about you.”

“She has a horrible way of showing it.” He clenched his jaw, zipping up his coat. “You don’t understand. This is the best thing that’s happened to me. It’s hard sometimes, but it’s amazing.”

“If this is what you want to do, I’m not going to stop you. Just be careful, okay?”

“I am! I am careful. You don't think I know what crazy bastards are out there?”

His father didn't really approve of his language, though he let it slide. Sighing, he crossed his arms. “You’re mum knows too, that's why she doesn’t like you doing this.”

“I don't care.” With that, he muttered a hurt goodbye and slammed the door shut behind him as he stepped out in to the chilly winter air. It instantly made him freeze and he hugged his guitar close. It was an inanimate object and didn't give off warmth, but he it made him feel safer, especially in this neighbourhood.

Guilt nagged at the back of his mind while he walked, telling him to go back and apologise. He hated leaving on a bad note.

In addition, he was now stranded in Jersey at night. Frank’s flat was miles away -too long for him to walk to- and he definitely was not going to go home and admit defeat. Instead, the only person he thought that might care about him at the moment popped in to his head and he forced a small smile as he changed directions to head to the Way’s house.

-

“Hey.” Mikey said quietly as he opened the door, a mug of steaming hot chocolate in his grasp. He furrowed his brows when he spotted Frank’s miserable expression.“Are you okay?”

“Hi.” Taking a deep breath, he avoided eye contact. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Sure.” He opened the door wide, letting Frank in, plus an unwanted huge gust of wind that brought in crisp leaves with it. “What happened?”

Sighing deeply, he dropped his things, setting his guitar down last. “My parents don't like what we’re doing. Well... My mum doesn't.” Shrugging, he slid his coat off, hooking it on the living room door handle. Thankfully, the gas hadn't gone off yet, so Frank hurried to stand by a radiator.

Remaining silent, Mikey urged Frank to elaborate with a raise of his eyebrows.

“My mum tried to stop me from doing this; the band, the gigs, the touring, saying that it was ‘dangerous’, so I left.” Wrapping his arms around his waist, he felt intrusive. “Are you sure I can stay here?”

“Yeah,” Mikey nodded, patting his shoulder comfortingly as he set his mug on the coffee table and picked up Frank’s bags, taking them down to the basement for him. Reluctantly leaving the radiator, Frank followed suit. “Gerard’s not back yet. Though I’m sure he won't mind you sleeping here.”

They ducked under the door frame, careful not to hit their heads as they trudged down the stairs. Their electric bill still hadn't been sorted. Mikey had been meaning to get around to it, however, he didn't feel like calling his parents just to ask for money.

“Thanks.” Frank forced a weak smile.

Nodding, Mikey left him to his thoughts, closing the basement door, which plunged him in to darkness.

With an exasperated sigh, he flopped backwards on to the bed and pulled the blankets over him, burying himself. Breathing in, he could smell Gerard, who smelled like coffee and cigarettes and it calmed him considerably. Allowing his eyes to flutter shut, Frank snuggled in further [if that was possible] and smiled contently to himself. Even though Gerard wasn't even there, he’d still managed to cheer him up.

-

At an absurd hour in the morning, Frank was awoken by a loud crash, roughly coming from the end of the bed. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he switched the lamp on. Letting out a breath of relief, he allowed his muscles to relax and propped himself up, leaning back on the headboard.

The light cast harsh shadows on Gerard’s features, making his pale skin look even whiter. Black hair hanging over his eyes, he rolled his head back, looking down at Frank, who had a confused expression on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing back so late?”

Sliding his leather jacket off, he giggled. “What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Mikey let me stay here...” He trailed off, watching as Gerard stumbled around, stripping down to only his jeans. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Last but not least, he untangled his sunglasses from his hair, putting them on the bedside table. Then, without much warning to Frank, he crawled over him and collapsed in to the empty space on the other side of the bed, nearest to the wall.

“You know,” Frank chuckled, “You could have just asked me to move over.”

“Now, that wouldn’t have been as much fun, would it?” He giggled again, biting his lip, leaning forwards as he spoke, their noses almost touching.

A frown graced his lips as he smelled the strong alcohol in his breath. “Have you been drinking?”

Closing his eyes, Gerard shook his head. “Not a lot.” It would have been more believable if his words weren’t slurring together.

Sighing, Frank threw some of the covers over Gerard as he lied back, making sure he was covered as it was cold and he wasn't wearing much of his clothes.

Glancing at the clock, Frank saw it was nearing four o'clock in the morning and his eyes widened as he flicked the lamp off, lying down himself.

“Fffrankie.” Gerard murmured drowsily, draping an arm over his waist as he buried his face in the crook of his neck. His breath was hot and his parted lips kept grazing Frank’s skin lightly, causing him to shiver.

Frank would have answered, but his breathing evened out and he knew Gerard had fallen asleep. Tucking Gerard’s hair behind his ear, he gently kissed him on the forehead before shutting his eyes and succumbing to sleep, too.


	4. Riot

A few hours later, weary and dazed, Frank awoke much too soon for his liking to the blankets on the floor and his body lying sideways across the mattress. Propping himself up on his elbows, he squinted in the dark -the sun had barely risen, the sky a dim, hazy blue- and found that Gerard was no longer beside him. Sighing, he attempted to push himself up, but his hands slipped off the edge and he fell to the floor with a dull thud, banging his head on the carpet.

“Ow...” He mumbled, putting all his effort in to rising to unsteady feet. He swayed, but he managed to grab a hoodie and traipse up the stairs.  
Tugging it on and making his hair stick up, Frank wandered in to the kitchen, where Gerard was sat hunched at the counter, wrapped like a burrito in a blanket, cold fingers clamped around a steaming hot chocolate mug.

Luckily, there'd been a few cartons of milk stored in the cupboard, and some hot chocolate powder for him to be able to make it. Unluckily, there hadn't been any coffee left.

Head hung low, sunglasses on, Gerard winced when the basement door slammed shut behind Frank, who took a seat beside him, a concerned expression plastered across his face.

“Hey, Gee.” He offered a small smile, keeping his voice low.

“Hey.” Gerard groaned, looking up through black strands, tinted with teal.

“Fun night last night?” He chuckled quietly, raising his eyebrows. He shuffled closer to Gerard, tilting his head to try to catch his eye.

“Bert took me to... Branden’s house.” He ran his fingers through his greasy hair, bringing the mug up to his lips.

“What did you do?” Frank asked hesitantly, not sure if it was his place, trying to keep his tone calm. “You were out all night.”

“Well,” he paused, rubbing his eyes, which caused his glasses to nearly fall off, so he pushed them up in to his hair, “We had a few beers and... I don't know. I must have passed out or... Something.”

Sighing deeply, Frank stared at his hands in his lap, staying silent because he had nothing nice or helpful to say. He never did when it came to Bert, and he didn't think he ever would.

“But,” he sniffed, wiping his nose, “I woke up a few hours later and I... Came home.”

“Did you have a good time, at least?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Gerard shrugged. He pulled his blanket around his shoulders, slowly sipping his drink. “What did you do?”

A frown graced his lips and his shoulders slumped. The events of last night came rushing back to him in a tsunami of exasperation. Finally, he sighed, “I visited my parents.”

Sensing that that wasn't a good thing, Gerard swivelled in his seat to face Frank, eyebrows furrowed as he placed his mug on the counter. “What happened?”

“They-they don't like what we’re doing.” His muscles were tense, but they relaxed when Gerard snaked his arms around his waist and pulled him in to a hug. He rested his head on Gerard's chest, listening to his faint heartbeat. Allowing his eyes to fluter shut, he continued with all the restraint on his anger he could muster. “My mum thinks it’s... Dangerous. I guess she wants me to get a proper job, but I know I’d hate it and I’d get stuck doing it for the rest of my life.”

“Sounds like she doesn't know you at all.” Gerard buried his face in Frank’s hair, his warm breath ticking his neck.

“No,” he sighed, “I don't think she does.”

“Do you want to stay here a few more nights?”

“Are you sure?” Frank couldn't deny the delight tugging at the corners of his mouth, forming a lazy smile.

“I’m always sure.” He smiled too, lips pressed against Frank’s neck.

“You’ll get sick of me.”

“I highly doubt it.”

A blush crept up on to Frank’s cheeks, making his face heat up. He sighed happily, opening his eyes as he turned his head slightly to look at Gerard, though at this angle, he could only see Gerard’s pixie nose -the rest of his features hidden by hair.”You know,” he paused, taking Gerard’s hand in his own, fiddling with the rings he wore, “I’ll have to go get some stuff. Do you want to come with me? Will you be up for that? I know you have a hangover, but...” He trailed off with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Gerard nodded slowly, “I’ll come.”

“Sweet.” Frank whispered.

Startling them both, Mikey appeared at the doorway, leaning against the frame as he smirked at the two lovebirds by the counter.

Of course, like any younger brother, it was his job to embarrass Gerard -though Gerard always made the score even somehow; whether it be by humiliation or harmless, but annoyingly confusing, pranks.

“Hello, you two.” There was a hint of a smirk on his lips as both of their heads turned to face him. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything?”

“You mean besides the peace and quiet?” Frank retorted, grudgingly separating himself from Gerard, who scowled slightly at his brother. Instantly, he frowned at the loss of warmth and contact and brought his knees up to his chest.

Mikey shrugged, walking over to the kitchen cupboards to rummage for food. Taking Gerard’s hangover in to consideration, he went about it silently.

Resting his elbows on the counter, Gerard kept his gaze ahead as he could feel Frank’s eyes burning the side of his face. “What did you do yesterday?” He asked.

Puzzled, Mikey glanced at Gerard. “What?”

“What did you do yesterday?”

“I didn't know you were interested.”

“Answer the question, Mikes. Why do you have to make everything so awkward?” Gerard rolled his eyes, quickly regretting it because they were sore and dry.

“You’re the king of awkward.” Mikey chuckled lightly, opening the fridge. However, it was a mistake. He’d forgotten that the electric was temporarily out of use. He shut the door immediately, wafting a hand in the air at the nauseating smell. “Do not open that door.”

“Noted.” Frank nodded. “How long has the electric been off, exactly?”

“No idea.” Mikey ran his fingers through his hair. “Weeks, probably.”

“You need to call mum and dad.” Gerard said sternly, shooting a warning look at him.

He shook his head. “Why can't you?”

“My phone ran out of charge and I can’t charge it.”

Sinking in to a seat opposite them, Mikey groaned, holding his head in his hands. “So has mine.”

Pressing his lips in to a thin line, Frank hesitantly spoke up, “Mine hasn't.”

“Great.” Mikey smiled, narrowing his eyes at his brother, smugly. “Gerard, use Frank’s phone.”

Admitting defeat -because he was being ‘the bigger man’ and not because he couldn't think of an excuse why Mikey should use Frank’s phone instead- Gerard slumped. “Fine.” He growled, wrapping his fingers around the hot chocolate mug to keep warm.

-

“Just let me sleep.” Gerard murmured, voice muffled by the fact he had his head submerged in pillows and his body engulfed in numerous blankets.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, breaking the serious face he'd been trying to pull off. “No,” he chuckled, “Come on, Gee, you said you’d come with me.”

“I’ll sleep while you get things ready and then you can wake me up.” Gerard poked his head out to look at Frank, who let out a short laugh. “Sound good?”

“I’m already ready!” Frank gestured with his hands before slapping them by his sides again.

“You sure ‘bout that?” He mumbled drowsily, followed by a loud yawn.

Fortunately, with the help of pills and a long three hour nap that had ended half an hour ago, Gerard was feeling better, though there was still a dull pounding in his head behind the eyes. The pills had made him a little giddy, too.

“Don’t make me drag you out.” Frank cocked his head to the side, scowling playfully. In defiance, Gerard just gazed up at him with an innocent smile, which Frank found adorable, but kept his thoughts to himself.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I will.” Frank reached for the blankets and pulled, attempting to unravel the burrito Gerard had successfully trapped himself in. It was harder than expected and all his efforts did was bury Gerard in them more. Eventually, when his strength gave out, Frank dropped the blankets with a huff. “Gee.” He whined, on the brink of a not-so-manly tempter tantrum.

“Frank.” Gerard whined mockingly, tucking a bit of the blanket down so he could see. Currently, he was one eye in the midst of a sea of duvet covers.

“We have to go.” He huffed, climbing on to the bed and beginning to search for the edge so he could untangle them. “I swear.” He mumbled, a frown etched in to his features.

Gerard laughed as Frank’s wandering hands tickled, shuffling towards the wall.

“That’s it.” Frank smirked menacingly. “I’ll tickle you out.”

“Won’t work.” Gerard shook his head, curling up in to a ball.

“Then I’ll find the biggest spider and-”

Suddenly alive with energy, Gerard jumped up as he cursed a string of profanities. “Nope, nope, nope.” He scrambled out of bed, wincing as his feet hit the ground. “I’m out.”

Unable to stop grinning, Frank was quite pleased with himself. Plus, it was hilarious to watch Gerard charge out of bed -it was probably the fastest he’d ever seen him move. “I should have started with that. We would have been out hours ago.”

“You’re mean.” Gerard pouted before disappearing in to the bathroom, a pile of clothes in one hand, tattered old boots in the other.

“And you love me for it.”

-

“Can I charge my phone while I'm here?” Gerard asked, glancing at Frank, who was trying to grab a rucksack off of the top of his wardrobe.

“Sure.” Frank breathed, rocking back on his heels, giving up on trying to reach it for the fifth time. “If you help me with this first.”

“Aww,” Gerard grinned, mostly slyly, a little in a way that meant isn’t he just adorable?, “Is baby Frankie too small?”

“I maybe small, but I can still kick your ass.” He retorted, shooting a challenging glare at him. “Want a demonstration?”

“No, thank you.” He declined politely, shuffling past Frank, who had a smug expression on his face.

Honestly, it was true. Gerard couldn't hurt a flower even if he wanted to; he had the upper body strength of a... Well, gangly sleep deprived young boy with the emotional togetherness of a toothbrush. However, Frank was all of those things too, and yet his punches could still hurt like bitch. Maybe Gerard just wasn’t built for the world beyond the basement.

Standing on his tip toes, Gerard managed to snatch the rucksack, then handed it over. “Next time you can kick the ass out of the wardrobe until it collapses to reach your bag?”

“Too much effort.” Frank shrugged, pressing his lips in to a thin line.

“Shove off.” He scoffed, nudging Frank in the shoulder as he wandered towards the kitchen. “Do you have any food we can take, too? Me and Mikey are running out.”

“Oh, great. We’ll have to go shopping.” He groaned, beginning to stuff whatever t-shirts and jeans he could find that appeared moderately clean. “If I do have any food, it’ll be mouldy.”

“We’ve got the van for the afternoon, we might as well.” He didn't even bother checking the fridge. That food will have been left for weeks, and he was not in the mood for getting whacked in the face by the most pungent smell in the universe.

“Got any money, genius?” Frank emerged from his bedroom doorway, hands in pockets, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Uhm,” Gerard hummed, slapping his thighs to feel for any cash in his pockets, “Nope.”

“I might have some stashed away, hang on.” Frank quickly disappeared as he lobbed his rucksack at Gerard, who luckily caught it in time before it hit him in the face. For the next solid five minutes, the only noise was the sound of Frank rummaging through his belongings. Truthfully, it sounded like he was ransacking the place with a chainsaw.

“Frank?” Gerard sighed. “Is this going to take much longer?”

“Keep your pants on.” He replied, kneeling on the floor as he dug around under his bed. He came up short. “I have nothing.”

“Wonderful.” Gerard said sarcastically. “I know you didn't leave on a good note, but can your parents help?”

“Probably not. Not that the moment, anyway.” He snatched the charger that Gerard was supposed to use up off the floor, bringing it back to him.

“You can leave your phone here to charge and we can come back later.” He suggested as Gerard nodded and handed over the device. “Geez, it’s hot.” He commented as he plugged it in. “What have you been doing with it?”

Gerard furrowed his brows. “It was only in my back pocket.”

“Then your ass must be radiating heat.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Gerard’s cheeks were set ablaze. He turned away from Frank, heading to the exit to hide his red face. “Let’s go.”

Just as they were about to leave, Frank’s phone rang quite loudly, giving them both minor heart attacks. It didn't help that Frank’s ringtone was set as the Joker’s laugh. “Ahoy.”

“Hey, it’s Ray.”

“I know. Caller ID.”

“Anyway,” Ray sighed, “Where are you guys?”

“Getting some shit from my apartment, why?”

“We need the van.”

“Why?”

“We met this guy called Brendon a few nights ago after a concert and he invited us to a party. It’s pretty far, so we need a lift.”

Rolling his eyes, Frank ushered Gerard out of the door, then turned to lock it behind them. “We’re coming now. Shall we pick you up at yours, or are you at the Way’s?”

“The Way’s.” Ray answered. “But it’d be great if we could pick Matt up on the way there, too.”

“Ah, my favourite human.” He joked.

Gerard trudged after Frank, trying to listen in on their conversation.

They traded snarky comments and harmless insults until Frank agreed to pick Matt up as well, as much as he didn't want to. It wasn't like they hated each other, they just didn't get along -like two negative magnets, they repelled each other.

-

Eventually, in the van with the heating blasting warm air in their cold-bitten faces, Frank, Gerard and Matt sat in the most visible awkward silence ever. Neither of them wanted to believe the tension was there, but it was. Gerard would practically see the resentment passing between them, and he wished he could chop it in two with a knife of surrender to be split to stand on both parts. Only then would it be less uncomfortable.

Fortunately, they had music, and the Way’s place was literally around the corner.

“Right,” Frank pulled the car on to the pavement, narrowly grazing someone’s mailbox, “Get out and get them.” He shot a glance at Matt, who leaped out of the car, glad to be away from the tension.

Sighing deeply, Gerard rolled his head back to rest on the car seat, ready to fall asleep. “One of you should make an effort, you know.”

“Gee, that sounds swell.” Frank breathed through gritted teeth. “But I’d rather lick a hobo’s foot.”

“I’ll make you lick a hobo’s ass if you don't at least try to be nicer.” He scowled. “I just can’t deal with all the tension. I’ve already got a headache, I don't need your bickering making it worse.”

Frank softened, staring straight ahead at the road. “I’m sorry.” He bit his tongue. “I just won't talk to him, how’s about that?”

“That’s better, I suppose.” Gerard sighed again, bringing his knees up to his chest as he closed his eyes.

Startling them both, the door slid open with a loud screech, piercing through their ears. Ray jumped in, Mikey and Matt close behind. They were squashed together like uncomfortable peas in a tiny pod. Not to mention, it was even more packed now that Frank’s stuff was taking up a fair amount of space.

“Hey, guys.” Ray chirped, carding his fingers through his wild hair.

“Hey.” Frank nodded, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. “Where the fuck is this Brendon’s house?”

“Uhm...” Mikey trailed off, but Ray picked it up.

“Here.” He got out his phone. “He texted me directions.”

Gerard took the phone for Frank so he wasn't too distracted while driving. He held it near the dashboard for him to see.

“Wow.” Frank clicked his tongue. “Swanky.”

“Yeah, he lives in the fancy part of Jersey.” Mikey guessed with a shrug.

“Too rich for my blood.”

-

“This is it?”

“Apparently.”

The house was huge, more of a mansion. It had tall metal fences that had spikes lining the tops circling around the house. Trees marked the winding road up to the grand doors, creating an arch way above their heads, too. There were multicoloured lights flashing from the windows, and they could already hear the music blasting from speakers that were probably even bigger than Frank. Obviously, this Brendon lad had money.

“I take it back.” Frank pulled in to the drive, parking amongst the numerous other cars, which were a lot more pristine compared to their battered up vehicle. “This is too rich for me at all. I might just burst in to flames when I walk through the door.”

“I’m counting on it.” Matt piped up, hopping out of the van before Frank could come up with some rude retort.

“Just don't break anything while you’re in there.” Ray reminded them, receiving eye rolls from everyone. “What?” He held his hands up in surrender. “We barely know this guy, I don't wanna go trashing his house.”

“Well,” Frank began, “If he didn't want his shit broken, he shouldn't have invited New Jersey low lives like us.”

Shaking his head, Ray didn't bother replying as he got out, the chilly air biting at his skin because fuck it was cold.

Three boys out, two to go. Frank realised Gerard had been silent for a while now, so he turned to him. “Gee?” He put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

Gerard’s head was leaning against the glass, his lips parted and his eyes closed.

“Wakey, wakey.” Frank sang, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“Hmm, what?” Gerard yawned, rubbing his eyes.

“We’re here.” He stated. “You don't have to come in if you don't want to. You can sleep in the back of the van?”

“No, no.” Clenching his jaw, he attempted to suppress another yawn. “I’ll come in.”

“Come on, then. The others have already ditched us.”

-

Everything was loud. The people, the music, the wind, their footsteps, their movements; just everything. Gerard hated it, and he’d rather leave, but Bert had texted saying he’d been invited, too, and he’d told him to meet him upstairs -which was confusing as there were at least three different sets of stairs.

Gerard grabbed Frank’s hand, too scared to let go in case he was washed away by the crowd.

“I don't even know what this Brendon guy looks like.” Frank shouted over the music, steering away from the mass of hot bodies moving about sloppily to the rhythm. He kept a tight grip on Gerard’s hand as he led him to where he thought the kitchen was going to be.

Eventually, they managed to find a more secluded spot, at a storage cupboard near the back of the house.

Gerard leaned in to Frank, trying to be heard. “I’m sorry, Bert texted me to meet him upstairs.”

“Bert’s here?” Frank asked, confused, his heart plummeting. He wasn't fond of parties, and he’d hoped that he could try to make the most of the night by spending it with his best friend. But now he was going and Frank no longer knew why he was even there -he was probably going to have to be the responsible one.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you later.”

“You won't even stay with me for one dance?” Frank pouted, putting on his best puppy eyes.

Biting his lip, Gerard averted his gaze, knowing full well he always succumbed to the puppy eyes. “Maybe later?”

“Alright.” He sighed, sending daggers towards Bert, wherever he may be. “You owe me.”

Gerard smiled. “I owe you a dance.”

“Now, go, before this gets like some cringy teen movie.”

-

Weaving his way through the maze of random people, Gerard finally succeeded in spotting Bert, who had his elbows resting on the banister as he gazed down at the dance floor from the landing. He had two typically red plastic cups in his hands and he shoved one at Gerard when he wandered over.

“For you.” Bert grinned.

“Oh, thank you.” He’d had beer the previous night and to be honest, he was looking forward to the warm buzz it gave him, but he didn't feel like gaining another hangover. Nevertheless, he gulped it down anyway, enjoying the burning sensation in the back of his throat.

-

“Oh my God.” Frank groaned as he collapsed in to a beanbag, which was in the corner of the room, facing the dance floor. Truthfully, it wasn't a pretty sight. Now that he was sat down, he was eye level to everyone’s crotches. “Fucking fantastic.” He muttered, rolling his eyes as he raised a drink to his lips. He’d gotten a beer ages ago, but he hadn't bothered to try it. It smelled rank, and he didn't particularly feel like becoming a senseless zombie.

Sure, he drank -in the safety of his own home. He didn't like getting wasted with strangers because it always led to fuzzy one nights stands, or he ended up waking up in a puddle of his own vomit, or worse, someone else’s.

As if on cue, as soon as he took a swig, a girl came bouncing over to him, though he didn't realise as his attention was focused on his very interesting shoe.

“Hi.” She beamed, crouching down beside him. She put a hand on his knee to steady herself.

Blinking hard, he furrowed his brows. “Hi?”

“You look lonely.”

“Do I?” He pressed his lips in to an uneasy smile, cocking his head to the side. “You're alone, too.”

“Yes, but I had the guts to put an end to that by coming over here.” She raised her eyebrows.

“I applaud you, but I'm quite fond of my loneliness-”

“Hey!” She suddenly gasped, earning a puzzled look from Frank. “I know you!”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’. “No you don't.”

“I do, I do.” She put a hand to her head, as if massaging it would repair her memory. “I know you from-from-” She snapped her fingers, desperately trying to sober up for the one part of this conversation. “You’re from that band.”

“Ah, yes.” He sipped his drink. “I’m from ‘that band.’”

“Yes.” It finally clicked and she grinned like she'd won a prize. “My Chemical Romance, you’re the guitarist.”

 _Shit_ , Frank thought. Of course he was overjoyed that someone recognised him, but he'd rather have it happen under different circumstances. “Iam.” He smiled, unable to contain his delight. _He’d been recognised_.

She held out her hand for him to shake, which he hesitantly did. “I’m Lola.”

“I’m Frank.”

“I know, silly.”

“Oh,” he was thankful she couldn't see him blush.

“How about a dance?” The lights above moved to shine on her, illuminating her face and for the first time, Frank could see what she looked like. Dark pink hair that cascaded around her small shoulders, an adorable button nose, and blue eyes that simply glowed. For the occasion, Lola was dressed in a denim skirt, a black tank top and knee high boots.

Frank had to admit, she was pretty. “I don't think so.” He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“I can’t dance.”

“Cant, or won't?”

“Both.” He chuckled.

“Then I’ll teach you.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him to stand. “Come on, Mr Guitarist.”

“Alright,” he gave in, “But I’m going to have to be a lot more drunk than this.”

“Your choice.” She shrugged, abruptly stopping in the sea of people. “You want to lead or shall I?”

“I don't know if you’ve noticed, but this isn't a slow dance.”

“I know,” she smirked, “I just wanted the opportunity to spin you around like a ballerina.”

“But I’m not wearing my tutu.” Frank tried to frown but he smiled instead. Admittedly, he was appreciating this strange girl’s company. He didn't even think she was that drunk, just a little tipsy.

“I’d love to see you in that.” She giggled, flicking hair out of her eyes. Chewing her cheek, her eyes flicked to his lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do you mind if I kiss you?”

Taken aback, Frank just blinked. Normally, he would mind, but she seemed so sweet, and kind of reminded him a little of Gerard. He just felt comfortable around her, like an old friend. “Not at all.”


End file.
